


Fixed Patterns

by still_lycoris



Category: Through the Dragon's Eye
Genre: Fear, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:01:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23896495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: Morris thinks it might be a message.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Fixed Patterns

Morris thinks it might be a message.

He’s not sure. It doesn’t look like the squiggles in the Veetacore book and that’s what he thinks writing looks like. But earlier, _before_ , Jenny was telling Doris about something in the book and she wrote something in her own notebook and he thinks, he thinks that maybe her marks look a little like _these_ marks. And Jenny was so firm when she showed him what she’d drawn.

“Like this?” she’d said, quite lightly but when she’d handed him the bit of paper, she’d looked at him really hard, like it really mattered. And Morris had nodded and started working and he’s making sure to make it exactly the same.

That’s an H, isn’t it? He thinks that’s an H. H ... and it’s a short word. Maybe it says Help. That’s a short word.

He hopes it says Help. But maybe that’s just because it’s what he wants to scream. Or rather, what the scream would start with. _Help_ and then it would just turn into a wordless scream. Because he’s so, so scared. He was _already_ scared but at least when Doris was around, you sort of felt everything would be all right. Doris always behaved as though everything would be if she just shouted at it enough and it was easy to believe her. When the Veetacore had exploded, she’d been the one who’d moved first, told them they needed to find all the pieces _now._ She’d acted like they would somehow manage to fix it, even when they hadn’t had a clue. You always felt that things would be all right when Doris was there. Even when Charn had walked into the room, she’d stayed herself, tough and fierce and spitting words at him like she wasn’t scared at all. Morris hadn’t dared to because he was scared. He was so scared.

And now Doris was ...was ...

Before ... so long ago now, he’d let himself half-forget, let it fade into things that weren’t that important ... when Charn had first been there, long after he’d stopped being Horris and become Charn and started ... hurting Pelamots, he’d melted a lot of people. Gorwen had managed to revive most of them. Not all, but most. All of them that would talk about it had said that it hadn’t really _hurt_ , being melted, but you knew it was happening when it did. You felt this dragging feeling, like you were being pulled into the Earth. The opposite of flying, they’d said. And then that was it and you didn’t feel anything at all. Maybe ever again.

Gorwen is so far away that maybe Doris wouldn’t feel anything ever again.

He needs not to think about it. If he thinks about it, he’ll cry and Charn will see and he doesn’t want Charn to notice him. When Charn looks at him, he feels cold and terrified and heavy inside, like he’s already being melted.

Another block on the pattern. A line with three lines that come out. Then another but with only one line that comes out at the bottom. Careful. Get it exactly right. And don’t think about Frug. Don’t think about Doris. Don’t think about Frenny or Frister. Don’t think about Charn, standing there in the room that never seemed too small before but now feels _tiny,_ like it’s all Charn and he’ll touch you and Morris really doesn’t want Charn to touch him.

It’s hard to believe that Charn was Horris once. All right, Horris had always been moody and strange but he was one of them. A Keeper. A Pelamot. And then he’d changed. Slowly but surely. All the little friends Morris had been collecting, vanishing away and then – 

Another block on the pattern. A line with a circle at the top. A tapering line with a dot. A space before the next curving block. He likes knitting. Knitting always makes sense. You put things in the pattern and they came out right and if they didn’t, you could fix it. Knitting was so easy and uncomplicated and even Doris liked it when he knitted her something, even though she always got cross with his pets – 

Another block. Three straight lines, two running parallel with one in the middle, linking them together. Charn is moving again, his clothes rustling as he walks around the Veetacore. Doris had bristled when he’d gone near it, even though it’s only parts now. Morris doesn’t dare bristle. He’s not Doris. He was never brave like her. But he wishes Charn wouldn’t go near the Veetons. They shouldn’t be anything to do with him. They’re important, it’s their duty to look after them, protect them and Charn isn’t going to do that, he’s all wrong – 

“Jenny!”

Jenny’s brave. Morris looks at her now and though she’s pale and shivery, she’s looking at Charn and she’s not shrinking back, even when he sweeps towards her. But then, she’s important. Charn can’t hurt her or the Veetacore will never be fixed. Maybe that helps her be a bit brave.

“Yes?” she says and her voice is small but it’s quite clear.

“I want you to call Boris.”

He hisses Boris’s name with contempt. Which is strange because Morris thinks Horris and Boris always got on all right, really. Better than Morris and Horris ever had. And Doris and Horris had always yelled at each other, even back then when everything was fine but then they’d made up and Boris had said that they just liked it that way and Doris did shout at a lot of people so – 

Don’t think about that. Another click of the needles. Focus.

“All right,” Jenny is saying. “But ... the screen ... it’s ”

“Clean it off first!” Charn snaps, as though she’s being stupid.

Morris sees Jenny swallow. She looks at him for a moment, her mouth slightly open, her cheeks paler than ever. She’s scared. She doesn’t want to touch what’s left of Doris. He can’t blame her. He doesn’t want to either. But how can he let her?

“I’ll, I’ll do it,” he says even though he doesn’t want to and his voice sounds shaky. “Let me just – ”

“No,” Charn cuts in firmly but almost kindly, swinging from irritation to that friendliness that scares Morris almost more than the snapping does. “You have knitting to do. We don’t want poor little Jenny getting too cold, do we? You should carry on with what you’re good at. Jenny can clean the screen.”

Morris wants to resist. He wants to show that he’s brave, he wants to stand up and tell Charn that Jenny’s only young, that creatures grow differently in their world, that she shouldn’t have to do something so horrible. But Charn has lifted his hand, almost idly and even though there’s no lightning flash, he knows what it means, knows what will happen if he says anything stupid. And Jenny knows too because she’s stepping towards the screen saying “It’s all right Morris.” even though it so obviously isn’t.

“They must make them smarter in your world,” Charn says. “Or did Gorwen steal the only sharp ones?”

Jenny shrugs. She runs her gloved hands down the screen, peeling away the bits of Doris that haven’t dripped heavily to the floor. She shivers as she does it. Morris looks quickly back down at the scarf. Don’t lose focus. Another block on the pattern. Keep it going. Knit the scarf. Do what he’s good at.

Please, please, please let it be a message. Please let Amanda and Scott understand it when they see it. Please let it bring Gorwen home to them.

Please, somehow, let everything be all right.


End file.
